


My Best Fiend

by mantisbelle



Category: RWBY
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arthur Watts Being A Dick, Dom/sub Undertones, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nuts And Volts Week, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Touch-Starved, Verbal Humiliation, banter as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: The door opened at close to two in the morning, and Tyrian slipped in wearing two jackets, layered upon each other. The first, outer jacket was the same leather coat that Tyrian had been using since Watts had first met him. The second, worn closer to Tyrian’s skin and zipped shut was a local’s coat, if the wool lining was any indicator.He turned towards Tyrian, not bothering to leave his seat. “You’re late.”“Oh, am I? My greatest apologies.” Tyrian replied as he slipped out of his boots by the door and stretched himself out. His tail unfurled from around his waist, straightening out and flexing out to its full length as Tyrian made himself comfortable. The faunus took a seat on one of the beds, not bothering to remove his coats in the process. Watts couldn’t help a tiny frown when he noticed that Tyrian’s socks were mismatched colors and almost definitely stolen from his own wardrobe. “I got a little… caught up.”
Relationships: Tyrian Callows/Arthur Watts
Comments: 22
Kudos: 96





	My Best Fiend

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Nuts and Volts week. This is my only contribution to it, so I hope to hell that it delivers.

Watts checked the time on his main scroll for the umpteenth time within the last hour, feeling pure  _ anger _ beginning to bubble up under his skin over what shouldn’t have been, and yet had managed to become a  _ predicament. _

The little basement apartment hidden away in a dark corner of the city was far from homey. It was simply a place that Watts paid the rent on under a false name because it ensured that he had a safe hideout to rest in whenever he needed to be in Mantle or Atlas for any reason. Most of the time, the apartment remained dormant and nobody ever bothered with it. 

In fact, he was fairly certain that the only ones who knew that there  _ was _ a basement apartment were himself and the landlord— an unscrupulous fellow by the name of Karrot and  _ only _ Karrot. As long as Watts provided Karrot with money, his secrets were safe. 

Not that it had ever mattered, since most of the time when he  _ was  _ there, he was  _ alone _ .

Which led him back to the reason that he was checking the time constantly.

Tyrian had been assigned to the mission with him, and had been due back at the apartment  _ hours _ before. 

It wasn’t that Watts didn’t trust him to get back: it was that he didn’t trust Tyrian to get back  _ without  _ causing trouble on the way. After all, it seemed that there was one thing that Tyrian was extraordinarily talented at, and it was causing trouble. His second gift was unrestrained violence. 

Watts knew that, just as well as everyone else under Salem’s employ did. There was a reason that even the most bloodthirsty among their ranks tended to avoid Tyrian. As far as Watts could tell, Tyrian even tended to lean into it, much to everyone else’s (and his own) disapproval.

Even still, Tyrian being  _ late _ could only mean that Watts would have a mess to clean up in due time. He just hoped that it was an easy mess to clean up.

He seated himself at the tiny table in their apartment and read article after article on his scroll, starting with local news before following an odd rabbit hole to reading about the latest proposed upgrades to the Atlesian Knight units.

Terribly boring ideas, truly. Absolutely uninspired. Installing shields from Hard-Light Dust to make them able to function of a Phalanx of sorts was  _ nothing _ compared to what Watts would have done. He would have networked the Hard-Light Dust into the metal itself, able to create a second coat of armor over the robotic bodies which would have been close to impenetrable. 

Not to mention, Hard-Light Dust could do some damage on its own. 

Watts left himself a note on his scroll, just in case he ever wanted to propose some interesting upgrades to Tyrian’s tail— if only because he knew that Tyrian would gladly agree to such experimentation.

The door opened at close to two in the morning, and Tyrian slipped in wearing two jackets, layered upon each other. The first, outer jacket was the same leather coat that Tyrian had been using since Watts had first met him. The second, worn closer to Tyrian’s skin and zipped shut was a local’s coat, if the wool lining was any indicator. 

On some level, Watts had always wondered whether Tyrian was coldblooded like a true scorpion would be. In a way, the coat provided an answer. Although, Watts realized, it perhaps wasn’t the most accurate one.

Atlas and Mantle were quite cold for anyone that wasn’t used to their weather. Watts had come with the advantage of acclimation and knowing how to prepare for it. Tyrian had not.

He turned towards Tyrian, not bothering to leave his seat. “You’re late.” 

“Oh, am I? My greatest apologies.” Tyrian replied as he slipped out of his boots by the door and stretched himself out. His tail unfurled from around his waist, straightening out and flexing out to its full length as Tyrian made himself comfortable. The faunus took a seat on one of the beds, not bothering to remove his coats in the process. Watts couldn’t help a tiny frown when he noticed that Tyrian’s socks were mismatched colors and almost  _ definitely _ stolen from his own wardrobe. “I got a little… caught up.” 

Watts rolled his eyes. “Somehow I doubt that.” 

Tyrian watched him, grinning wide. “Do you doubt me, Doctor?” He asked, shifting so that he could lie down, still wearing both of the coats. “When have I ever mislead you?”

That was the odd thing, Watts knew. Tyrian didn’t  _ really  _ lie to people, not usually. From what Watts understood, Tyrian didn’t find any value or pleasure in doing so. Unnerving someone with truth seemed to be one of Tyrian’s greatest gifts, something which the scorpion was no doubt  _ well _ aware of. If Tyrian was looking to mislead, he would do so by talking in circles. That was his way, not lying outright.

So instead, Watts decided that a different line of questioning was appropriate. 

“Where did you get the coat?”

Tyrian perked up, smiling even wider than before. His eyes dilated in a way that Watts only associated with danger. “Oh, this? I simply borrowed it off of one of the locals,” Tyrian explained, thumbing at the wool lining on his second coat. “I’m sure that he’s used to the cold, and seeing as I need it more—” He fell into a short giggling fit. 

It confirmed most of Watts’ suspicions. He had no doubt that once Tyrian removed both of the coats, finding that the second new one was stained with blood would be no surprise. 

Expecting Tyrian to have given up  _ all _ of his hobbies when he joined with Salem was a foolish endeavor. The same way that Watts himself hadn’t given up his own interests, and he was fairly certain that Hazel had held onto parts of his old life as well.

So long as Tyrian didn’t draw too much attention, Watts almost didn’t mind. 

Almost. 

He let out a sigh, not entirely sure what he was meant to say to the scorpion at that point .

“Do promise me that you made some sort of effort to dispose of the body?” He asked. “Seeing as we’re meant to be undercover and Mantle is full of surveillance..” 

Tyrian shrugged. “It’s as hidden as it needs to be.” 

“ _ Tyrian. _ ”

“Oh, but it’s true, Arthur!” Tyrian replied, his tail twitching behind him. “Who would ever think to look in a manhole for someone that's gone missing?”

A manhole. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the  _ worst _ outcome. 

He turned slowly to face Tyrian. “I’ll excuse the murder.” He growled at his partner. “But not the tardiness. You should have been back five hours ago. Do I need to remind you that  _ secrecy _ is key to our success?” 

Tyrian looked across at him, and slowly Watts watched him seemingly return completely to normal. Like all of the previous excitement had flowed out of him all at once. 

“I apologize.” Tyrian mumbled. “I got so very carried away. He tried so hard to put up a fight.” There was a little pause, and then the scorpion broke into a laugh. “ _ Just how I like it.” _

Watts didn’t exactly understand Tyrian’s bloodlust. He never had, to be completely honest. It was the one thing that Tyrian had that set him apart from himself and Hazel, and even Cinder. Watts preferred not to get his hands dirty unless it was necessary, and Hazel had a relatively  _ strict _ code about who he would and wouldn’t kill. Cinder’s interest in killing was mostly limited to as necessary and her foolish little revenge quest.

Tyrian however genuinely  _ relished _ it. 

Some days, Watts wondered whether he should find the man’s case file or not. Doing as much would be easy enough, all it would take for him to gain access would be a little bit of  _ creative _ _ programming _ , after all. Watts just wasn’t sure if he’d want to have to go to bed knowing whatever he found inside. 

There was an odd disconnect in his mind about it. Surgical images, medical photos he knew he could handle. A crime scene was another beast because a crime scene was  _ never _ clinical.

“Well, I hope you’ve had your fill.” Watts said, breaking himself from his own train of thought. “We’re here for a mission. It would do you well to remember that.” 

Tyrian rolled his yellow eyes, and for a split second Watts could have  _ sworn _ that he’d seen just the slightest hint of violet instead. 

Little bastard.

“I know I’m here for a mission.” Tyrian said. “But you see, I had no money and it’s so very cold.” 

“I understood that.” 

Tyrian blinked. “I did what I needed to survive, Doctor. I can promise you I took no pleasure in it.” 

A blatant, bald-faced lie. A rarity.

It was almost like Tyrian thought it was some sort of  _ game _ , what was happening in the room in that moment. 

Maybe it  _ was  _ a game to him, Watts thought. 

Tyrian was watching him, just as aware of the game as Watts was. He was waiting for a response, something to play on, something to take and mold to whatever end he had in mind. Watts understood that was just how Tyrian was, but he couldn’t pretend that he’d ever understood it. 

“If you needed money so badly,” Watts said, despite knowing full well that Tyrian’s pockets being empty of Lien was yet another lie. “You know that you could have come to me and asked.” 

The scorpion broke out into a fit of giggling, wild and erratic. “But doctor, don’t you understand?” His hand slipped down into one of the pockets of the fur lined jacket and he removed a wallet from it. It was fat, stuffed to the point where it could barely clip shut anymore. “I don’t need the lien anymore.”

Watts sighed and approached the scorpion’s bed, as odd as it was for him to do so. He reached out for the wallet and snatched it from Tyrian’s fingers, meeting no protest in the process. In one easy motion he opened the wallet and learned everything that he needed to know. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You killed a journalist.” 

“Who to report our crimes but a journalist?” Tyrian asked. “If anything, I’ve made this mission so much easier on us.” 

Watts frowned and turned away from Tyrian, a hunch already beginning to form in his mind about why Tyrian would choose the man that he had. That wasn’t to say that Tyrian wasn’t one to enjoy random acts of violence, but Watts  _ knew _ Tyrian. 

He had a habit of making things  _ personal _ . 

_ Deeply _ personal. 

Watts had no doubts in his mind that if he wanted to, he could search the name of Tyrian’s latest kill and he’d probably find a damn good reason for Tyrian to target him. After all, when Tyrian had been the subject of a manhunt and subsequently captured, there had been quite a media frenzy around the event. 

Watts himself had even caught wind of it from Atlas, where he’d been moderately respected at the time. Respected and considered alive, what a different era, truly.

He eyed the identification card in the wallet. “He doesn’t seem like your type.” 

Tyrian blinked and stared across at Watts, a sudden tension settling over the room that was too much to be ignored. 

All at once, Watts realized just what kind of mistake he’d made. 

Implying Tyrian to have a  _ type _ . What was he thinking? Being Tyrian’s  _ type _ either meant a less-than-comfortable place within a modus operandi, or it meant being part of an ultimately tumultuous relationship because Tyrian’s only interest was in eventually destroying you. 

Something like the odd little obsession that Watts had started to notice Tyrian had with regard to one Qrow Branwen. Bitterness over the tail, apparently.

Watts swallowed hard and snapped the wallet shut. Tyrian was still staring, stock still as a predator waiting for its prey to make a move. He leaned back onto his own bed, since that seemed to be about the only way that he could maintain any separation from Tyrian whatsoever. 

“Why, dear Arthur—” Tyrian started, climbing towards the edge of the bed on all fours, his limbs moving in ways which were distinctly nonhuman. “My type?” He prodded, his tail swishing behind him. “What  _ ever  _ could you mean?” 

“I can’t remember you ever calling me Arthur.” Watts deadpanned. “And what I mean is that this journalist doesn’t seem like your typical target.” 

“Well, but of course.” Tyrian’s feet met the floor and he crossed the room quickly. “That’s because I didn’t go after him for me.” 

“Your coat would say otherwise.” 

Tyrian looked down at himself, the fur lined coat that was still stained with blood. “Why, this old thing?” He asked, picking up one of the flaps and holding it out away from his body. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

Watts grit his teeth. “Will you stop with these  _ games _ , Tyrian?” He snarled at his partner. “I’m trying to understand why you insist on drawing attention to ourselves.” 

“I drew attention  _ away _ from us.” Tyrian bit back. “While I may have been able to act on some old grudges, it was all for the mission for Our Goddess.” He stood up straight, and for just a second his golden eyes flicked away from Watts, his hands coming together in front of him and wringing in that way that they always did when Salem came up. 

For someone who claimed to hold eternal, unconditional love, Tyrian certainly seemed to act mostly in fear when it came to Salem. 

Watts leaned back in his own bunk. “Then explain yourself, please. Enough of your nonsense.” 

Tyrian’s tail swished. “Why, he—” He swallowed. “He was critical of the General, Arthur. I was playing along with the plan. My own goals were purely secondary, a coincidence. Nothing more. I killed him for Our Goddess and for you. That’s all.”

As much as Tyrian tried to play himself as being honest and truthful, Arthur knew a lie when he saw one. He  _ tsk _ ed disapprovingly, which made Tyrian almost slump into the bed. His tail dropped down to his side like all of the life had just left it all at once. 

Watts eyed the tail. “If your problem truly is the cold,” He began, watching the way that Tyrian slid his tail out of Watts’ sight at the realization that he was under scrutiny. “Then I suppose that would be bothering you.”

Tyrian glanced back at his tail and shrugged. “It always bothers me, Doctor.” 

“Even with the prosthetic?”

“No replacement will ever be as good as the real thing, Arthur.” Tyrian said. “Nor will any amount of fine craftsmanship.” 

Watts hummed. As much as he was frustrated to hear how  _ inferior _ his work was, he could understand it. “Would you like me to remove it for the evening?” 

Tyrian considered it, lounging back on the bed that he’d taken for himself. “No, I think not.” He said. “The thought of being without it again is  _ unbearable.”  _ The tail lifted up again, swaying behind Tyrian’s head and the stinger bobbing in time with Tyrian’s own movements. “I am simply so bothered by the cold. I wonder why anyone would want to live here.” 

It made Watts hum. “I suppose that the cold would take some getting used to.” For a moment he considered checking his scrolls. If he had the access codes, he could have gone ahead and turned up the heat in the sector that they were hiding out in. “I have the benefit of being used to it.” 

“I’ve never felt so cold.” Tyrian said, running his thin fingers over the fur lining of his coat. “Always so cold.” 

“We could turn up the heat. Or light a fire.” Watts suggested. “If it bothers you so much.”

Tyrian considered it, staring at Watts with a look on his face that felt _ predatory. _

“A fire?” Tyrian asked. “No, no. That would get us noticed, would it not? We must maintain a low profile, it is as you said.” 

“Then what would you have us do to remedy this problem, Tyrian?” Watts asked, as straight to the point as he could be. If he was direct then the chances of Tyrian trying to distract him from the topic would drop, even if it was only marginally. “Since fire is out of the question and you’re not bothering to address turning up the heat?” 

The scorpion faunus’ tail twitched and swayed back and forth, obvious agitation filling his body to the brim. His expression sank into a furrowed brow of concentration, like he didn’t know what he was going to ask for already. 

Watts was fairly certain that he knew what Tyrian wanted.

It was all there, in the almost hungry expression that was written across Tyrian’s face. 

“Well…” Tyrian looked up and away from Watts like he was remembering something. “I suppose that we could always take advantage of our  _ close _ accommodations.” There was a pause. “Why, it might even be our best opportunity to warm up, doctor.” He grinned wide, expression turning devilish all at once. “Nobody would ever even question it.” 

“Tyrian, I’m beginning to think that you’re suggesting this with ulterior motives.” 

“Ulterior motives?” Tyrian raised a hand to his chest like he was some housewife clutching at his pearls. “I would never. Have I  _ ever _ been anything but truthful with you?”

Watts rolled his eyes. “Many times.” Tyrian began to open his mouth to protest. Watts raised a hand to shush him and began to explain. “The day we met, the day after we met, the three weeks where you refused to discuss your injuries after Her Grace retrieved you, when your tail was moulting, when you forgot to eat for two days, and when you murdered a journalist here in the city mostly for your own entertainment.” If he’d needed to, Watts could have gone  _ on and on _ with Tyrian’s myriad lies. 

If it weren’t for Watts’ own habits and Cinder’s more unfortunate traits, Tyrian would have been the most untrustworthy person under Salem’s employ. 

Watts knew better than to always trust him whole cloth. The only thing Tyrian  _ could _ be trusted with was destruction, and even then Watts preferred a certain level of coordination and even  _ choreography _ . Just cutting Tyrian loose was too risky.

Tyrian would follow his orders and do his job, but he needed someone or something to rein him in. It was half the reason that Watts was there in the first place.

But given the list of lies that Watts had given, Tyrian only shrugged and smiled. Completely unphased. 

Having absolutely no morals had to be a good time, if Tyrian’s existence was any indicator. 

“Perhaps I have lied.” Tyrian mused. “But I’m not lying now. I’m quite cold. This weather is quite painful for me. Why my tail—” It flicked out to the side, the steel prosthetic that Arthur had forged himself shining bright. “It’s not well adapted for these conditions.” 

Watts eyed it. “And so what would you have me do?”

Tyrian watched Watts and rolled his eyes, slinking out of his bed and across the room to kneel on the edge of Watts’ own bed, leaning in close to pen Watts in so much that there wasn’t anywhere for him to go. He crept in even closer, his body all but braced on top of Watts’. 

“Doctor, I’m sure that you can figure out exactly what I mean.” Tyrian’s tail swayed in, moving forward so that it hovered just beside Watts’ face. To his surprise, the rounded curve of Tyrian’s stinger stroked the side of his own face. 

Watts sighed. “Tyrian, if this is meant to be another of your games, I’d prefer you to know that I’m sincerely not interested.”

Tyrian quirked an eyebrow. “You think that I’m playing games?” Tyrian asked, and for a second Watts couldn’t help but think that there was some edge to his tone. Some concern with rejection. “I would  _ never  _ toy with such serious matters.” 

“Why do I doubt that?” 

Tyrian rolled his eyes and climbed into the bed, only stopping when Watts put a hand on his chest to keep him from getting in any further.

“If you’re going to join me, you’re going to at least change. You’re soaked.” 

Tyrian let out an annoyed noise but stalked off to the other side of the room so that he could remove the bloodied coat. Once it was off, Watts saw just how badly stained Tyrian’s clothes actually were. Whatever he’d done, he certainly hadn’t bothered to hold back at all.

The thin faunus stripped down though, revealing the large criss-crossing scars that covered most of his body. 

He shivered as soon as his body was exposed to the air, and Watts realized for the first time that evening that Tyrian’s complaints about the cold were  _ anything _ but a joke or some sick game. 

Stripped down, Tyrian approached Watts’ bed again and climbed in, his body trembling as it fought to keep itself warm. Tyrian’s skin was cold, in a way that Watts couldn’t help but find alarming. 

Even worse was the faunus’ tail. The natural plates were ice to the touch, and the steel prosthetic was in even more dire straits. 

“Tyrian—” Watts spoke quietly. “How long has this been going on?” 

Tyrian didn’t reply, only wound himself around Watts as much as he physically could. His arms— lithe but muscular, wrapped around Watts’ own shoulders. Desperately seeking the closeness as much as he desperately seeked out the warmth. 

“It was as soon as we arrived, wasn’t it?” Watts asked. “You aren’t used to the cold.” 

The scorpion faunus’ tail flicked. “I grew up in a desert.” He mumbled into Watts' shirt. “I’ve never been somewhere so  _ cold. _ ”

Watts frowned and considered stroking his hair through his partner’s long hair, but hesitated. He was very much under the assumption that Tyrian kept his hair plaited for a reason. Of course there was the thought of just keeping the long locks under control, but that didn’t seem right to Watts. 

After all, if it being so long was a reason to try so hard to control it, why not just cut it off?

He sighed and let his head drop back. “You’re always such a pain, Tyrian.” 

The tail tightened around him and Watts let his fingers trail over the cool plates. Still too cold. “I can’t even imagine what she was thinking sending you here.” He paused. “If you were going to be so cold.” 

“She was right to send me.” Tyrian replied, his eyes having slipped shut. It was beyond obvious that he was just soaking in as much of the warmth as he could manage. Of course, Watts was sure that Tyrian had no idea when he was going to be able to feel as warm again. “She’s always right.” 

“But still.” Watts mumbled. “I suppose you’re just glad to be used again, aren’t you?” 

Used. 

Such an  _ ugly _ word. Watts knew being used intimately. He hated it. Tyrian however seemed to  _ relish  _ in it. How he could do so, Watts would never understand. 

Simply being a tool for someone else's machinations had ruined Watts’ life. And yet nothing seemed to make Tyrian happier.

Tyrian’s head turned slowly and he looked up at Watts with his bright yellow eyes. Watts couldn’t help but notice that it was one of those rare occasions where his pupils seemed to be fully focused. If he’d had the training, Watts would have tried to do something for him. Alas, he was no optometrist and designing good prosthetic eyes was incredibly difficult work. Tyrian deserved better than the old-fashioned goggle like contraptions.

Watts stared down at him, still too aware of how intimate the situation was. He’d never had Tyrian so close to him, or so thoroughly unclothed as in that moment. Not in a context that existed outside of an operating room, at the least. 

After all, when Tyrian had needed to be stitched back together after Salem had  _ selected _ him for her service, Watts had been the one to suture his wounds. It was a process that had taken hours upon hours, with Tyrian dipping in and out of consciousness for most of it. Blood loss was a nasty beast. It had take Tyrian  _ days _ before he’d managed to recover enough to be fully coherent.

The scorpion looked him in the eyes though. “Her grace knows what I am best used for.” He said simply, like it was  _ that _ simple. “Same as she knows how to use you, and our dear Hazel.” 

“And the girl.” 

“And the girl.” Tyrian echoed him. He propped himself up slightly, which gave Watts a little bit of room to make himself more comfortable in the bed. The scorpion faunus pulled away from him, reaching up so that he could let his hair down. 

Watts watched him as the braid slowly began to loosen as Tyrian worked. The man’s dark brown hair fell over a back that had been covered with scars. 

Every scar told a story and Watts had learned to read them for the most part. It came as a simple side-effect of his own work experience. 

One day, Watts would ask Tyrian about some of his scars. He had no doubt that some of the ones on his arms were self-inflicted or had been won in battle. He knew the origins of the ones that covered his chest. 

The ones on his back were too deliberate and large, too random but not random enough. 

From what he understood Tyrian had experienced  _ some _ form of servitude when he’d been young. Tyrian had mentioned it offhandedly but never elaborated on the matter. No doubt because his mind had been in a thousand other places at the time. 

Watts watched Tyrian though as he released his hair. 

The scorpion turned slowly to look back at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Watts replied. “I just wonder why you keep it so long.” 

“It’s like a second tail.” Tyrian mumbled, as though it was something that made sense to anyone other than him. “When I have to hide mine, I always have another I don’t have to conceal.” 

Watts resigned himself to the fact that he’d never understand it. 

But Tyrian turned himself around quickly so that he faced Watts. He sat up, crossing his legs on the bed and letting his tail slide up and under the blanket in search of the warmth. “Why doctor Watts—” He began. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were just  _ leering _ at me.” 

Watts raised an eyebrow. “Is that truly the choice of words you’re going to use?” 

He did not  _ leer. _ Tyrian was the one that tended to leer. He did not. 

Tyrian giggled though. “Doctor, is there something wrong?”

“Yes.” Watts muttered. “I have a madman trying to make conversation with me.” 

Tyrian blinked. “Mad?” He asked. “Me? Why, I’ve never  _ heard _ such an accusation.” 

Watts rolled his eyes. “What were we just saying about your lies, Tyrian?” 

Tyrian deflated slightly, even  _ pouting  _ as he glanced away. 

“Are you sufficiently warm?” Watts asked, since he had a feeling that the only way to deal with Tyrian was to once again sidetrack him. It was a surprisingly effective when it came to Tyrian, since the man seemed to lose track of his thoughts easily unless they pertained to Salem or to well…

Murder. 

Tyrian’s tail twitched under the blanket. “No.” He admitted. “But I feel as though I’ll never be warm again.” 

“I have no doubt of that.” Watts commented. He reached out for the scorpion faunus to beckon him in closer again. He had half a mind to remove his own clothes and bring himself down to Tyrian’s level. Maybe that way he’d be able to get a little further inside of the head of the man that had been named his partner, for better or for worse. 

Tyrian sat up straight though, his open palms braced on the spot where his ankles cross in front of him. “Do you think she will be pleased?” Tyrian asked, seemingly out of nowhere. 

As if there was an easy way to answer that question. From what Watts had been able to glean being  _ pleased _ had long left Salem’s language. Salem being happy or glad was a double edged sword, Watts had realized that long before. 

He wasn’t like Tyrian, where he clung onto the possibility of care or reward. He wasn’t the type to be broken by rejection, or by being a source of disappointment. Watts cared about rejection, but it wasn’t something that would make him suffer a meltdown. 

Not in the same way that Tyrian would. 

There was no way to be honest with such a matter. 

“I think she only wants to see us successful.” Watts answered, since that sidestepped the issue enough. “After all, our performance will have such great bearing on her entrance.” Tyrian’s tail continued to flick nervously behind him. “It would be better to focus on the present.” 

All at once, Tyrian seemed to still. 

“Killing two in would night would be risky.” 

“Yes.” Watts confirmed. “It would. Which is why you and I should be resting and preparing for tomorrow. After all, it’s only a matter of time before Ironwood, the council, and the election start throwing complications into the mix.” 

He frowned and eyed Tyrian. “Have you decided that you’re warm?”

The faunus looked way from him, probably not sure of an answer that he could give. 

There was an edge to something there. Something that Tyrian was trying to  _ avoid. _

Watts had a feeling. 

“Come.” He all but ordered. 

Tyrian eyed him. 

“Tyrian.” Watts tried again. “Here. Now.” 

The faunus pouted but scrambled forward to be close to Watts. All at once, Watts raised a hand up by Tyrian’s head, the same way that he’d seen Salem do so many times when she'd decided that she needed to sway Tyrian to her command easier than usual. 

Tyrian bowed his head, the same way that he always did for his goddess. Watts knew what was supposed to come next. He’d seen it enough times. There was an aspect of performance to it, an art, a routine that was meant to come into play.

Salem would have lowered her hand to Tyrian’s head for just a moment. She would have given him the room to nuzzle into her touch and relish in the contact for as long as he could. When he got too close, she would then pull away. 

And then Tyrian would serve her more desperately than ever, a pet begging for scraps from an uncaring master. 

Watts doubted he could get the same effect even if he tried. If he could, he wouldn’t have pretended as though it wasn’t stroking his ego. But he was not Salem. 

He never would be. 

Tyrian looked up at him, still keeping his head down. The man’s bright yellow eyes peered up at him from between his dark eyelashes. 

Slowly, Watts lowered his hand to Tyrian’s head. 

The man’s dark hair was surprisingly soft to the touch, far softer than Watts would have imagined it to be. Within seconds he felt the hesitant press back into his hand, Tyrian desperately searching more of that contact. 

It made Watts sigh, stroking his thumb over his partner’s hair, taking some of his wildly cut fringe out of his face in the process. “So pathetic, Tyrian.”

The faunus  _ whimpered,  _ his yellow eyes squeezing shut as he tried to avoid Watts’ gaze. Watts stroked through Tyrian’s dark hair though and watched as the hesitance began to melt away, the man titling his head and pressing his cheek into Watts’ still-gloved palm. Behind him, Tyrian’s tail laid limp instead of twitching or moving as usual. 

“Watts—” Tyrian murmured, pressing himself even closer to Watts. “Please—” 

Watts rolled his eyes. “You will wait for a moment.” He instructed Tyrian, which made Tyrian freeze up entirely. Slowly Watts pulled his hand away and wasn’t surprised when he realized that Tyrian had tried to chase the contact. But Tyrian stayed still with one look, and sat still while Watts removed his own coat, since he didn’t exactly need it if the two of them were going to be  _ curling together for warmth. _

Pathetic. All of it was pathetic. 

Honestly, what was coming over him? 

But Watts got himself to the point where he was ready to share his space with Tyrian and beckoned his partner forward. The faunus crept forward in a way that was more animal than man-like, but climbed into his space anyways. 

The bitter cold of Tyrian’s plates bit against Watts’ skin but he simply brought forward his aura to stop it from being too much of a problem. So long as Tyrian didn’t get too  _ excited _ and activate his semblance, Watts would have nothing to worry about. 

The faunus laid against him, nearly chest to chest. Tyrian’s yellow eyes slipped closed as he basked in the skin contact and the warmth, which left Watts to pull a blanket over the two of them. 

Watts allowed himself slowly to relax, which was hard when he knew that there was a man perfectly built to kill sharing his bed.

But there was also something about that fact which was, in the oddest ways,  _ thrilling. _

After all, what did it mean if someone who took so little issue with killing willingly never did the same to him? What did it mean when he could apply a harsh hand and still not be hurt for his efforts? 

Watts didn’t know, but it was doing  _ something _ for him. 

He looked down at his partner. “I hope you understand that this can’t be a regular thing.” 

Tyrian only hummed, his head resting on Watts’ shoulder, eyes still closed. 

Watts rolled his eyes. “Her grace would never approve.” He added. “Of such fraternization.” 

“Her grace wouldn’t have to know.” Tyrian mumbled back to him, and Watts couldn’t help the way that his eyebrows shot upwards at it. He  _ never _ would have imagined Tyrian saying such a thing about Salem. He was the one who was most devoted to her of all. Anything he did Salem  _ would _ know in one way or another. 

Watts let his gaze drift across the room though, to where his bag was sitting on top of a table. 

She’d know.

There was no question about it.

“Tyrian—” Watts began to protest but before he could get a word other than the scorpion’s name out he had a pair of hands cupping his face and was being pulled down as Tyrian pressed his lips to his own in a move that Watts could only describe as  _ possessive.  _

His lips were cracked and chapped, but the kiss was firm. And Tyrian just pressed himself closer and closer to Watts for the entire time. So close that it felt like he was trying to burrow his way under Watts' skin in more ways than just the one.

Watts pulled away, put a hand on Tyrian’s shoulder and tried to push him back. “That, was—”

_ “Good. _ ” Tyrian laughed quietly. He tried to push himself in again, but Watts scrambled backwards. 

“That was something that we need to talk about.” Watts replied firmly. “What was that?”

Tyrian raised an eyebrow. “Was it not welcome?” He asked, almost sounding confused.

Watts eyed him. “She wouldn’t approve.” He repeated. “And we’re supposed to be focusing on the mission anyways. Not on such… nonsense.” 

Tyrian blinked, his eyes flashing colors for just a second. “And yet it’s our downtime.” He rebutted. “Shouldn’t we be trying to enjoy it? What's life without a little bit of  _ fun? _ ”

Watts frowned. “I  _ know  _ what your brand of fun is, Tyrian.” The thin man was shifting in the bed though, sitting up like he wanted to straddle Watts’ hips instead of be where he was sitting. “And this isn’t it.” 

Tyrian set his hands on Watts’ shoulders and twisted the two of them so that he could be on top of Watts. His long tail flicked out behind him before coming to rest on the bed between Watts’ outstretched legs. He sat upright, with his tail and spine creating one, long unbroken wicked curve. 

“There are so  _ many _ ways to have fun, Doctor.” Tyrian said, his eyes settling on Watts’ face before straying down towards his neck and his collar. “Her Grace wouldn’t have to know. Besides, wouldn’t this count as the two of us  _ bonding? _ ” 

Tyrian’s right hand moved away from Watts’ shoulder and hovered just above Watts’ neck, like he was considering what to do with it. Watts looked up into his partner's eyes and saw  _ something _ storming in there, something dark and horrible that he didn’t want to consider. 

But of course, there was that  _ thrill _ again. That knowledge that it would take Tyrian so little to hurt him, to damage him permanently or beyond repair, or even kill him. 

And yet, Tyrian’s hand lowered. He chose not to hurt him. 

Watts stared up at his partner. “What are you thinking, exactly?” He asked. “Since I get the feeling that you’re looking for something different from your usual.”

The faunus cocked his head to the side. “Was it not obvious?” And just like that, he rolled his body, reiterating where he had placed himself. 

And it  _ was _ obvious. But Watts wanted for Tyrian to  _ do something _ with it. To say it out loud so that there couldn’t be the usual play of words between them. Besides, it wouldn’t kill Tyrian to attempt to be direct with what he wanted for once in his life, Watts thought. 

Watts propped his head up on the pillow. “I want to hear it.” 

Tyrian rolled his eyes. “I want you to  _ fuck me _ , Doctor.” He said, leaning forward and arching his back as he positioned himself over Watts. “Don’t you want that? To breed me like the faunus whore I am? To claim me as a possession, a servant, a  _ pet? _ ” The scorpion’s tone shifted into something sharp and intense, hissing out every word for Watts and Watts alone to hear. “Come on, Arthur.” Tyrian taunted him, leaning in towards Watts’ ear. “Isn’t that what you want?” 

The man’s breaths were hot against Watts’ neck, and then the first kiss landed, slow and hot just under Arthur’s ear. “Isn’t it?” 

“Tyrian—” Watts began to protest before he felt a nip at his earlobe. Tyrian arched his back, pressing the two of them chest to chest and clutching for one of Watts’ hands so that he could pin it into the blankets. “This is—”

“Just what you want, right?” Tyrian hissed, nipping again. “Just be  _ honest _ , Arthur. To practice what you preach would do you some good, don’t you think?” 

And damn if Watts couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t  _ tempted. _ Tyrian was a pleasant weight against his body, angled in just the right way and pressed up against him in just the right places. His lips were brushing over the skin on his neck, alternating between kissing, biting, and suckling at the skin that made Watts wonder if there was some goal for him to leave marks.

It was a bad idea.

Possibly the worst idea that Watts had ever had in his entire miserable life. 

But he laced his fingers with Tyrian’s and used his one free hand to grab at the faunus’ jaw and force his lips against Tyrian’s in a way that communicated  _ exactly _ what Watts thought of Tyrian’s suggestion. 

A delighted noise slipped out of Tyrian and Watts felt his partner grind their crotches together, making his own arousal just as obvious as Tyrian’s was.

Tyrian pulled away from him for air though, grinning wide as he tightened his grip on Watts’ hand. 

Watts couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t exactly what he was in the mood for. There were certainly improvements to be made, that much was certain. 

“You know,” Watts spoke up, his voice more gravelly than usual. “It could be beneficial to choose a more  _ comfortable  _ position for the two of us.” All at once, Tyrian seemed to go still under his touch, the message having been communicated perfectly clear to him. 

Good. 

The scorpion pulled away from Watts, drawing his hands back as he sat back upright instead of all but laying down on top of Arthur. “And what would you suggest?” He asked, his thin fingers moving to toy with the hem of Watts' shirt. 

Watts frowned. “You’ll start by  _ getting off of me. _ ” He all but growled the words out. Tyrian blinked and smiled, and obeyed. He seated himself on the bed beside Watts, still clad in only his underwear and mismatched socks. It gave Watts the room that he needed to get up and try to take control over the scenario. 

Besides, he reminded himself. Tyrian  _ had _ been asking for him to fuck him. What sort of man would he be if he were to refuse such a direct request?

Watts stood next to the bed and began to unbutton his shirt, standing directly in front of Tyrian. His partner sat there, entranced as he watched Watts unclothe himself. There was no need there for showmanship or for attempting to entertain at all. Tyrian was just watching him, no care for anything extra at all. 

Somehow it wasn’t quite what Watts had been expecting to get out of Tyrian. 

He slipped off his shirt and laid it over the back of a chair that was by the table. At least that way he wouldn’t end up wearing a wrinkled shirt later on. Just because Tyrian felt at home being haphazard and flinging his clothes wherever he felt like it, that didn’t mean that Watts felt the same way. 

After all, he  _ was _ Atlesian. Enjoying a great deal of order in his life came with the territory.

“What?” He asked Tyrian as he stared down at his partner. “Are you interested?”

Tyrian’s eyes roamed over Watts’ exposed skin. “I’ve never seen you like this before.” Tyrian admitted. Usually it had always been the other way around, with Watts being the one to tend to his wounds, or to check in on an old injury. A reason had never arisen for Tyrian to need to look at Watts’ body as he did then. 

Watts rolled his eyes. “I suppose then you should take full advantage of this.” He said, looking down at Tyrian. 

If Tyrian’s skin told a thousand stories through the scar tissue alone, Watts’ skin told surprisingly few. He’d made it out of so many incidents completely unscathed. The only significant scar that he’d ever gotten was a single burn that wrapped around part of his hip. 

And even then, seeing as it had been the result of him faking his own death, it wasn’t exactly as bad as it  _ could  _ have been. 

Tyrian stared up at him though, his thin fingers clutching at the bed sheets in a way that said clearly that Tyrian  _ wanted _ to reach out and touch him. 

But he didn’t. 

He never did. 

Propositioning him that evening was one of the few times where Arthur could remember Tyrian  _ ever _ asking for what he wanted, and even then it had been roundabout to the point where the demand for him to be direct had needed to be made. 

Watts let out a sigh as he slipped off his undershirt and bared his chest entirely.

Tyrian continued to stare. His grip on the sheets tightened. His tail swished back and forth behind him.

A quiet had settled over their little safe house, so delicate that anything could break it and the atmosphere with it.

Watts raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what Tyrian was thinking. 

When his hands went down to his belt, the first noise was made. 

It was a tiny, restrained thing. Bitten back rather than choked, a pitiful  _ whine _ like no other. 

Watts stopped, his hands on the buckle of his belt. “Is there something wrong, Tyrian?” He questioned. 

“No.” Tyrian bit back, a little too quickly and a little too desperately. “Nothing is wrong, I just—” He cut himself off again, like he was afraid to give even the slightest  _ push _ . 

Watts began to unbuckle his belt. “Tell me.” 

Tyrian leaned forward onto his hands, his tail still twitching and moving behind him, like it was where all of Tyrian’s excess energy was going to. He leaned himself forward so much that his head nearly brushed against Watts’ own chest. 

“Just  _ get on with it. _ ” Tyrian hissed at him, clearly frustrated. How could he not be, Watts thought, given how the evening had been going so far? It had seemed as though Tyrian had been prepared to just ride Watts then and there just minutes before, up until he’d given control over to Watts. 

Of course, Watts wasn’t exactly about to protest the change in dynamic. 

He'd  _ never _ been one to turn down a chance to be in control, and Tyrian—

Well, he couldn’t exactly say that he  _ hadn’t _ noticed that the man tended towards subservience with more people than just Salem. Of course, Watts had a handful of working theories as to why that was the case, but it wasn’t the time to think of them. 

There were so many more important matters at hand.

Watts removed his belt unceremoniously, watching Tyrian the entire time because his partner seemed wound so tight that it was moments before he gave into his base impulses. Like a spring coiled to the point of simply snapping. 

“Tyrian.” Watts said as he stepped out of his pants and found himself standing there in his underwear. “You should make yourself comfortable.” 

Tyrian blinked up at him and then looked back at the bed, considering it. 

The tail swished once more, and Watts realized that there were  _ many _ more considerations at play for Tyrian than he’d initially realized. 

“Not yet.” Tyrian replied to him.

Watts stepped in close. “Why not?” 

Instead of saying anything, Tyrian surged forward to grab at Watts’ face and drag it forward so that he could get in a rather demanding kiss. The man’s thin fingers pressed against Watts’ skin, starting at the neck and dragging down over his chest and the wiry hair that existed there. There was nothing about the motion that didn’t read as being  _ desperate.  _ Tyrian was approaching it like it was the only time he’d  _ ever _ be allowed such closeness to Watts, let alone  _ anyone _ else.

It made sense though. How could a man who was so desperate to be touched in  _ any _ way ever dream of not relishing in every chance that he could get to have that? Being touched in combat wasn’t the same as what Tyrian wanted and craved so desperately. Being touched in a clinical way as Watts usually did would never satisfy him either.

There was the chance that it all backfired on Watts spectacularly. There was the chance that Tyrian would develop an obsession, or seek out  _ more _ than either of them could reasonably expect to have from each other. 

There was also the chance that it was only one encounter to be had among many, and the foolish path that they’d have to follow for that to be the case. 

The kiss didn’t break though, so Watts let himself touch. He let his hands trail over Tyrian’s scarred skin and lithe muscle. He let himself take in Tyrian’s scent, his  _ everything. _ He took note of the way that Tyrian’s skin was so cool to the touch, and the way that Tyrian pressed himself into the contact at every given chance. 

When Tyrian pulled away, he stared at Watts with eyes that were that same bright purple that Watts had learned to associate with death the moment that he’d met the scorpion. 

“Now?” Watts questioned. 

Tyrian nodded slowly, his eyes going back to yellow within a blink. The thin man backed away from Watts, facing him the entire time as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his underwear to drag them down off of his body. 

Watts drank In the sight of Tyrian, of his scars, his oddly hairless form. But the faunus just gave him the time to look before he turned and climbed back onto the bed, clutching at the pillow and dropping it closer to the center of the bed instead of leaving it where it was. 

_ Oh. _

“That seems unsanitary.” Watts began to protest, just to be certain that Tyrian had indeed thought through what he was doing.

“And yet we have another.” Tyrian said as he seated himself, his long tail trailing out behind him. He leaned back and made himself comfortable, the purpose of the pillow’s placement all too obvious with everything considered. 

It made a thousand possibilities come to life in Watts’ mind. Things that he could  _ do  _ with Tyrian in the position that had been implied. 

At least, in Watts’ mind there was no question to be had about what Tyrian had meant. He was perfectly clear, at least he thought. 

Finally, Watts removed his pants and then his underwear went with them. He approached the edge of the bed where Tyrian was laying in repose, propped up in a way that was almost awkward to keep himself from lying on top of his tail. 

With the metal plating, it would have been even more uncomfortable than it would have been normally. Watts hadn’t considered that when he’d designed the damn thing. 

He lifted a knee to the edge of the bed and climbed in. 

Tyrian reached for him almost immediately, still so desperate for that touch.

Always so desperate for a touch.

Watts laid himself down beside Tyrian, his own hips barely clipping the edge of the pillow. Tyrian pulled him straight into yet another kiss, this one just as brutal as the one that had come before it. His fingers clutched at Watts’ skin, and it was then that Watts made a decision of his own.

“Tyrian—” He said as the scorpion’s kisses and bites trailed their way down to his neck. “Lie down.”

All at once, Tyrian stilled. The grip on him released and again there was that flash of violent purple in his eyes. But it disappeared just as quickly as Tyrian turned himself and bared his back to Watts in a way that he only ever allowed in the privacy of Watts’ lab. 

Slowly, Tyrian lowered himself to the bed, crossing his arms in front of him as he let the pillow prop up his hips. His tail trailed over his legs, like Tyrian hadn’t quite decided what he wanted to do with it just yet. 

Either that, or he was subtly asking for something  _ very _ specific that Watts wasn’t going to do without express permission. Doing so without Tyrian’s expressed consent was a fast way to end up with that stinger going through him, or with him needing a dose of antivenin (which Watts always carried on missions with Tyrian, although it was never in a large supply), or otherwise finding himself dead for his efforts. 

Watts stayed seated beside Tyrian for just a moment, reaching out to let his fingers dance along his partner’s spine. There was the slightest arch of Tyrian’s back as he touched, his fingers trailing their ways upward to the nape of Tyrian’s neck. He gently pushed Tyrian’s long dark hair out of the way. 

It would be so easy to grab hold and pull. Tyrian would probably even like that he did it, Watts thought as his fingers trailed over the scarred ridges of Tyrian’s back.

Watts’ fingers met the spot where Tyrian’s tail began to sprout from his body, and the second that he touched the chitin scales, he heard a hitch in Tyrian’s breath. Tyrian’s tail twitched under his touch, just barely enough for Watts to be able to feel it underneath. 

Oh, how he wanted to be able to see what the musculature underneath the plates was really like. How he wanted to understand how Tyrian’s nerves had wired themselves, to see the flesh that was under the plates that he wouldn’t dare consider removing. The little bit that he'd worked with when Tyrian had needed a prosthetic wasn’t nearly what Watts had wanted to explore. The bits that he’d seen when Tyrian had molted hadn’t been enough.

He doubted that exploratory surgery would ever be in the question. Suggesting  _ vivisection _ to Tyrian was also sure to end in a disaster— if only because Tyrian would likely be a little  _ too _ enthusiastic about the idea.

Tyrian turned his head slightly to glance back at where Watts was touching him. 

“Is this alright?” He asked, catching Tyrian’s gaze in the process.

Tyrian considered it, humming and then his tail began to move, lifting itself from the bed in a wicked arch before Tyrian let the less-plated underside slide against Watts’ own hand and wrist, almost wrapping around it affectionately.

It was the clearest answer that Arthur had  _ ever _ gotten Tyrian on the matter of touching his tail.

But the tail slowly loosened around his hand and Arthur watched as it came to rest beside Tyrian’s hip in a loose coil.

“Good.” Watts whispered, just loud enough that Tyrian could hear him. “ _ Very _ good.” 

The faunus pressed himself in closer to Watts, not daring to move himself from where he’d laid himself out for a second. Watts smiled and leaned in, stroking his fingers up and down Tyrian’s spine once more. 

A little hiss of pleasure escaped Tyrian. “Can we  _ get on with it? _ ” Tyrian grit out, giving Watts a vicious look that was unmistakable. Of course. How could he have expected for Tyrian to keep his own impulses in check for so long? It was only ever going to be a matter of time before he got impatient and couldn’t wait any longer. 

“I’ll need to get some supplies.” Watts insisted, tugging gently at the base of Tyrian’s tail to prove a point. “And it’ll do you some good to  _ wait _ here.”

Tyrian returned a flat look. “I thought that you were  _ always _ prepared, Doctor.” He cooed mockingly. “What ever happened? Your standards are slipping.”

Watts rolled his eyes and stood up, still in Tyrian’s line of sight. “I wasn’t expecting for you to bring this on.” He said plainly as he crossed the room to go to the bag where he knew a Seer was hidden away inside. 

Damn inconvenient thing. He knew that expecting Salem to just use a scroll was asking for too much, and particularly worthless with the CCT down anyways, but the grimm was simply a little too intrusive for his own tastes. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to open the compartment where the grimm was to get what he needed. Watts unzipped one of the outer pockets of the bag and removed a small bottle from it. He turned it over in his fingers just to be certain that it was in fact the one that he wanted. Satisfied, he zipped the little pocket back shut since he didn’t need all of his toiletries just yet. 

When he turned back around, Tyrian was still lying there on the bed, in exactly the position where Watts had left him. Obedient to a T, to the point where it wasn’t even a question that he would ever stray out of line.

If Watts hadn’t thought that there was something fundamentally unhealthy about Tyrian’s more  _ obsessive _ qualities, he would have even found it truly  _ endearing. _

If he’d ever needed a minion, someone like Tyrian would have certainly been an exceptional choice for the job. 

“Did you get it?” Tyrian asked, his tail flicking slightly, having been released from the coil. 

“Yes.” Watts answered as he took his position on the bed behind Tyrian. “Though I’m partially tempted to make you wait a little longer. Perhaps it would be enough to teach you some  _ patience _ .”

Tyrian whined, and it was then that Watts realized that the scorpion seemed to be doing everything in his power to keep himself from rutting into the pillow under his hips. Watts set the little bottle next to him and settled between Tyrian’s legs. He paused for a moment, considering his possibilities before he set his hands on Tyrian’s thighs and made an unspoken order for him to angle himself differently.

And Tyrian did just that. He lifted his hips and rested his chest lower towards the bed. 

What a sight he made, spread out and obedient. 

Watts palmed Tyrian’s ass for just a moment, considering the corded muscle under his touch. It quivered at the first contact, and then there was the careful  _ press _ of Tyrian’s body into his hand. “You will need to keep that tail of yours under control.” Watts said pointedly. “Since I’m sure neither of us can think of a worst mood killer than that venom of yours.” 

“I can—” Tyrian began to protest as Watts reached out and stroked his fingers over the tail itself. 

All at once, Tyrian went silent. His head snapped to the side so that he could stare back at what Watts was doing to his tail. 

The chitin that hadn’t been covered over was rough against his hands. All of it was cool to the touch, but there was something almost enthralling about how the plates molded together. The tail twitched under his touch, almost trying to jerk away. Watts didn’t give it that much room though, deciding to stroke his hand over the underside of the tail in the hopes that it would make Tyrian relax slowly. 

Sure enough it happened, even if it took some time for Tyrian to calm down. He could just barely feel the movements and twitches of the pure muscle beneath the plating but then it moved on its own, and Watts realized that Tyrian had decided to drape the tail over Watts’ shoulder, linking the two of them together for just the moment. 

“Good.” Watts cooed at Tyrian. “Very good.” He said, continuing to stroke his hands over the tail, paying close attention to the underside. “Now do me a favor and keep it under control. I’m sure that neither of us want to have a stinging incident here.” 

Tyrian stared back at him, his eyes that bright purple instead of their normal yellow.

Watts drew his hands away from the tail, even though it was still draped over his shoulder, holding him close and leaving no room for him to try and get away from him. “I’m going to prepare you now.” Watts said, in a way that might have been  _ slightly _ on the clinical side. “Do you understand?”

“ _ Yes. _ ” Tyrian hissed his consent to him, trying to tug Watts in closer using his tail. 

“Good.”

With that Watts was picking up the bottle of lube and beginning to coat his fingers. Tyrian watched him the entire while, just  _ waiting _ for what he knew was about to come.

Watts reached down and stroked his dry hand over the curve of Tyrian’s ass, slight as it was. The muscle quivered under his touch, ceasing when his fingers pulled away from the man’s skin. He let his fingers slide down towards Tyrian’s hole, taking his time by just gently massaging it as he tried to get Tyrian to simply relax. 

He earned a quiet  _ hiss _ out of Tyrian, and couldn’t help but notice the wicked curve that Tyrian’s tail took almost immediately. He had a feeling that he was going to have to keep a close eye on the tail as long as things were the way that they were. 

Watts pressed the tip of his finger into Tyrian. His partner’s back arched in response, which only served to urge Watts onwards with his preparations. The deeper and deeper that he went, Tyrian began to let out more and more noises that were absolutely  _ music _ to Watts’ ears. 

If they were at all a sign of what he had to expect, Watts had a feeling that it would be for the better if he found a way to keep Tyrian from getting too loud. The last thing that they needed was to be compromised for such an  _ intimate _ reason. 

When he deemed Tyrian ready for it, Watts slid a second finger into him. He pumped it the fingers in and out of Tyrian, closing his eyes and focusing on the slight clenches around his fingers. He began to scissor his fingers, considering whether or not he should try to reach for something within Tyrian. 

Driving him to absolute  _ madness _ by stimulating the prostate was absolutely too easy. 

But then there was that noise issue again.

Watts pressed his fingers deep into Tyrian and considered what he knew of anatomy. He only had to curl his fingers and then  _ there he was. _

The sound that Tyrian let out was a strangled gasp, the arch of his back so severe that if Watts hadn’t known better he would have been  _ concerned  _ over it. The man’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes glazed over and distant as Watts massaged the organ slowly and carefully. 

Surprisingly, Tyrian was being  _ quiet _ , if only for the moment.

“Good.” Watts whispered, wishing that the tail wasn’t draped over his shoulder in the way that it was because he wanted  _ so badly _ to be able to hiss little praises into Tyrian’s ear. Oh, how he wanted to see what would happen if he did as much. “So good for me, Tyrian.”

How easily he could just  _ break _ his partner.

Tyrian let out a strangled whimper, his hips jerking back so that he could try to force Watts’ fingers even deeper into his body. 

“ _ Watts—” _ Tyrian began to hiss mid-thrust.  _ “ _ Please just  _ get on with it. _ ” He began to beg. “ _ Please.” _

“I disagree.” Watts protested, shoving his fingers  _ hard _ into Tyrian’s prostate which earned a yelp out of his partner. “We’re going to move on when you’re ready for it and only when  _ I  _ decide you’re ready for it.” 

Another strangled whine escaped Tyrian, the thin man trying to fuck himself back on Watts' fingers even more. 

“Please, I’m ready.” Tyrian begged, his muscles trembling visibly. “I’m ready. Just go, I’m  _ ready— _ ”

Watts rolled his eyes. “You’re underprepared.” 

Tyrian whined again, shoving his face down into the bedspread in the space between his two arms, practically presenting himself to Watts. 

“So impatient, Tyrian.” Watts taunted him as he slipped his fingers out of the faunus’ body. “And you wonder why you aren’t allowed to just have whatever you want whenever you want. I think that you’d find that delayed gratification can be rather  _ rewarding _ .” 

Another whine escaped his partner, the tail shifting off of Watts’ shoulder to wrap around Watts’ waist and drag him in closer. Tyrian was  _ begging  _ him, and using his entire body to do it. Watts couldn’t exactly say that there wasn’t something about it that was thoroughly appealing. 

“ _ Please. _ ” Tyrian begged, his tail tightening and dragging Watts in so close that their hips were nearly able to meet. “I don’t care if it’ll hurt,  _ please.” _

And  _ oh, _ how Watts knew that was true.

“If we move forward.” Watts said. “Then you’ll have to be accept that when things hurt you have no reason to complain about it.” He slipped his fingers out of Tyrian for real and picked up the bottle of lube. “Are we clear?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Watts uncapped the bottle and poured some of the lube into the palm of his hand. He slowly began to pump his cock, which was already achingly hard and couldn’t help but to tilt his head back, close his eyes, and enjoy it for just the moment. 

But once he was ready, Watts set his hand on Tyrian’s hip and used it to tug the scorpion faunus into a proper position so that Watts could fuck him. Luckily for him, Tyrian went without protest, his skin having gone flush some time ago and his breathing labored with arousal. 

When he got a look at Tyrian’s eyes again, Watts realized that he’d  _ never _ seen them looking so dark, so heavily dilated as they were. He was used to his partner’s pupils being as small as pinpricks, never anything more. They were dark enough that he could barely tell the color that they’d taken on. To see them so dark and heavy with pure  _ lust _ was new

It was damn  _ rewarding _ , was what it was. 

Watts lined himself up, considering breaking his deal with Tyrian to prepare the man further. 

Breaking the deal also seemed like an  _ excellent _ way to end up with that singer embedded in his side, Watts thought as he pushed forward. 

As expected, Tyrian did not take him with anywhere near as much ease as Watts would have preferred, but the wanton moan that escaped him was impossible to miss. Watts sank in to the hilt, giving as little regard to Tyrian’s reaction as possible. 

Instead of Tyrian showing any signs of pain, he only seemed to be more aroused than ever. His muscles quivered as he seemingly did everything within his power to try and keep himself from rutting into the pillow that was meant to cushion his hips. Watts wouldn’t exactly stop him if he tried to do as much, but he would have very much preferred to allow the encounter to play out at its own pace.

“Good?” Watts questioned, just to be sure that he and Tyrian were indeed on the same page with what they were doing. The absolute last thing that he wanted to do was push Tyrian further, especially since Tyrian had begged for him to move forward despite being underprepared.

If it wasn’t for Tyrian’s thinly-veiled masochism (and really, the veil was beyond transparent), Watts never would have even gone for it.

“Just  _ move. _ ” Tyrian pleaded, his fingers clutching desperately at the sheets under him. 

And really, the request  _ did _ sound nice, but Watts wasn’t going to just do what Tyrian asked. 

He set a hand on Tyrian’s back, just beside where his tail sprouted from his body. There was an idea forming in his mind, one which Watts was  _ very _ inclined to follow along with as long as the possibility for it arose. But first he had other things to do.

“Manners, Tyrian.” Watts grumbled for his partner to say, even beginning to draw himself out. It was a threat, but far from a serious one. 

Tyrian, in his experience, wasn’t always the most thoughtful when it came to  _ threat assessment. _

The faunus whimpered and whined under him, all but shaking and trembling.  _ “Please.” _ He hissed out, an intensely sharp edge to his voice as his tail began to lift in a way that Watts quickly identified as dangerous. 

Without thinking, Watts let his hand shoot over to the limb and take hold of it as close to the root as possible. Tyrian hissed and the tail  _ jerked _ under his touch, but Watts held on tightly and pulled back on it, drawing Tyrian’s hips closer to his own in the process. 

“Now, that’s enough of that.” Watts scolded. “So rude, Tyrian.” 

“ _ Please. _ ” Tyrian began to  _ beg _ in a way that was absolutely music to Watts’ ears. He had a man that could kill him with no effort directly under his finger, refusing to do anything to stop him beyond the squirming even though they both knew that it would take  _ nothing _ for Tyrian to lay a killing blow. It wasn’t as though Watts' grip was anywhere near Tyrian’s telson. 

In fact, he had a grip on the least effective part of his partner’s tail to grab if he was hoping to avoid a sting.

If Watts was being honest with himself, the power was absolutely  _ intoxicating. _

“Very good.” He murmured to his partner and then he drew back halfway before thrusting back into Tyrian. The grip on the tail remained, Watts using it partially as a way to steer Tyrian in the directions that he wanted the man to go. 

Delight and heat curled in his stomach when Tyrian let out a tiny yelp as he rammed his way back in. 

A pace was quickly set, and Watts was able to take that entire time for observation. After all, was there not something fascinating about the way that Tyrian’s body twisted and curled under his own? The way that the man so desperately kept himself for seeking out his own pleasure? The way that his tail would curl and writhe under Watts’ touch with every thrust? 

Was there not beauty in the redness of his skin? The curled mess of his hair? The way that Tyrian’s dark locks stuck to his sweat-slicked skin?

Was there not deadly power hidden behind every flash of Tyrian’s eyes to purple?

Surely, Watts told himself as he ran his fingers over the plates of Tyrian’s tail, it would take a madman to not see it. 

Watts had always had an appreciation for anatomy, he supposed. 

He straightened his back mid-thrust, righting himself so that he had a little more leverage over Tyrian’s body, tugging back on the tail along with the motion so that Tyrian had no choice but to have him to hilt-deep inside of him. 

“Well,” Watts spoke as clearly as he could. Truth be told, he was getting rather close to his own end. 

If he was close himself, then he supposed there was no accounting for how far gone Tyrian was in actuality. 

“ _ What? _ ” Tyrian replied, his mouth falling open into a pant immediately after he got the word out. 

Watts raised an eyebrow. It was certainly a new reaction. 

“I was going to ask how you are doing.” Watts said, somehow managing to hold onto his composure to a much greater degree than he would have initially expected. “All things considered.” He broke their rhythm and stilled his hips, almost to prove a point.

He shouldn’t have been surprised by the way that Tyrian  _ whipped _ his head back to give him the dirtiest look that he’d ever seen on the faunus’ face. There were bared teeth and violet eyes, the clearest sign possible that Tyrian was about to snap if he didn’t get his satisfaction right then and there. 

Always with the need for instant gratification. 

Truly, it was pathetic. 

“It would do you good to try to be a little more articulate.” Watts said, tugging on the man’s tail once more. 

“ _ Move. _ ” Tyrian hissed at him and all at once the long tail tore its way out of Watts’ hand, almost so violently that he could fee the metallic plates along it cutting into his aura. Watts jerked his hand back in surprise and thought fast, activating the Hard-Light dust in his rings. 

Tyrian’s stinger hit the shield next to Watts’ face where he’d moved his hand to. 

For a long moment, neither of them said or did anything. Tyrian was still craning his neck so that he could look Watts directly in the eye, but there was an edge to him which was slowly but surely beginning to dissipate, his harsh breathing eventually softening.

“Are you quite finished?” Watts questioned, not sure what else there was to say in that moment. 

Tyrian frowned and his tail dropped. Watts reached out for it and lifted it up, and Tyrian left it thankfully limp for the moment. So Watts did what he’d been doing, closed his hand around the limb, and went back to using it as a handle of sorts. 

The new rhythm that Watts set was far from forgiving or kind. There was a brutality to his thrusts, the quick snapping of his hips, and Tyrian responded only by arching into the thrusts. 

Also raising with the pace was Tyrian’s voice. His laughter had broken into a high pitched, desperate  _ whine _ which needed to be silenced for the good of  _ both _ of them. 

So Watts leaned forward, pulling Tyrian’s tail in towards him in a way that signaled to Tyrian that the two of them needed a change of position. Tyrian responded in kind, folding his legs up under him and lowering his chest further towards the bed itself. Watts used his free hand to reach out, palm the back of Tyrian’s head, and force his face down into the bedspread. 

“ _ Enough.” _ He snarled for only Tyrian to hear, and surely enough Tyrian obeyed, his sounds going into the mattress instead of into the open air for anyone to hear. 

Watts pressed his chest to the long curve of Tyrian’s back, arching his own as much as he needed to in order to prevent himself from also pressing down against Tyrian’s tail in a way that would become too unpleasant. 

“Good.” Watts whispered into his ear. “So good.” 

Tyrian keened and whined, his hips desperately trying to thrust forward. 

Watts understood the message. He freed his hand from the back of Tyrian’s head and let it trail down into the space beneath Tyrian, down to the faunus’ hard cock which had seemingly been weeping precum for ages based on how slick it was.

“Oh, dear.” Watts hissed into Tyrian’s ear. “Is this what you’ve been crying about?” 

Perhaps it was cruel to do, Watts thought, but he had no doubts that Tyrian was surely enjoying himself. Would surely enjoy whatever was done to him. After all, the man that he knew had only rejected his own degrading when it came from Salem herself. It was something bred from fear more than anything else. 

Tyrian whimpered, his thin fingers clutching desperately at the sheets as Watts stroked his hand over his cock, ever so slowly. 

“Truly pathetic, Tyrian.” He whispered. “To think that you would fall to such  _ base _ instincts like this—” Watts gave a particularly rough thrust, which earned a  _ delighted _ sounding yelp out of Tyrian. “What would people ever think?”

Tyrian’s head turned to the side. It was an action that was somewhere between him seeking out space to breathe and wanting to protest. No words escaped, Tyrian’s mouth only hanged open as he panted in time with Watts’ thrusts. 

Perhaps drawing it out any further was cruel, Watts thought. He began to stroke Tyrian’s cock in time with his own thrusts, and when Tyrian let out a sound he didn’t bother to try and get Tyrian to silence it. He himself was getting close enough that surely it wouldn’t matter for all that much longer anyways. 

Watts just barely thumbed over the head of Tyrian’s cock when he felt the faunus’ tail wrap around him and  _ squeeze, _ his entire body tensing around Watts’ erection as a wet heat spilled over onto Watts’ hand to drip down onto the pillow that had once been cushioning and supporting Tyrian’s hips. 

As for the sound that Tyrian had made, Watts was  _ very _ keen on getting to hear it again. It was somewhere between a gasp, a whine, and a moan. A sound that Watts had  _ never _ heard out of Tyrian before, even in his most depraved moments that Watts had experienced the honor of witnessing. 

It was truly something special.

“Good.” He whispered into Tyrian’s ear as he wiped his hand off on the pillow. “Very good, Tyrian.” 

The faunus melted under him, his body going slack and his tail dropping down to the sheets as Watts quickened his pace just one last time. He just needed to finish that final drive home, and then he himself could rest. 

Tyrian stared back at him, hot tears formed in his yellow eyes and his mouth still open in a desperate pant. 

When the expression on his face began to contort into  _ pain _ Watts realized that his dear partner was overstimulated.

And yet Tyrian didn’t complain or protest. He was  _ enjoying _ it.

“Almost finished.” He assured Tyrian, stroking his fingers down Tyrian’s spine. ”So good, Tyrian. So so good. So good for me.“ 

Tyrian didn’t protest, but his eyes slipped shut and he pressed his face down into the mattress, just as Watts gave the final few thrusts, his hips stuttering as he finished, as deep into Tyrian as he could be, their bodies pressed together as close as possible.

For a moment, the two of them stayed there like that, connected in the most intimate way. Tyrian made no effort to push Watts away even though he was  _ definitely _ exhausted and overstimulated at that point. Watts himself had no real interest in leaving Tyrian’s warmth or the closeness that the two of them found themselves in. 

So he allowed himself to linger there, smoothing his lips over the back of Tyrian’s neck and gently sliding the man’s long hair aside to clear some more space. There was the slightest tensing of muscle under his lips, but it passed just as quickly.

When Watts pulled away, Tyrian almost immediately collapsed the rest of the way onto the bed, curling to the side and letting his long tail splay out on the bed beside him. His chest was slick with sweat and his skin red, but his breathing wasn’t anywhere near as labored as it had been. 

Watts seated himself at Tyrian’s side for just a moment. He’d get up and get a washcloth or something of the like to clean the two of them up with in a moment. 

He just wanted some time to check in with Tyrian first. 

“Well?” He asked, feeling oddly well composed given everything that had just happened. “Are you satisfied?”

Tyrian’s golden eyes slipped shut and he nodded slowly, his fingers finally releasing their grip on the sheet before they were tracing their way over in Watts’ direction in search of a touch.

Watts gently took them in his own. “Good.” He murmured. “Wait here.” 

The touch turned straight into a desperately tight grasp, like Tyrian was afraid that he was going to  _ leave _ and that would be all that there was. It was the kind of pleading touch that Watts had learned to associate with men on the brink of death. 

Not exactly something that he’d experienced in the afterglow of sex. 

But then again, Watts thought as he allowed himself to draw back in closer to Tyrian properly, Tyrian’s norm  _ was _ that his needs would be fulfilled only on a temporary basis. He was used to only being given scraps when he needed full meals.

Of course he would  _ fear _ that Watts would leave him like that. 

Watts took his seat back on the bed, Tyrian instantly curling in around his back and his long thin arms winding their way around Watts’ stomach. It only earned him a sigh as Watts let a hand settle on Tyrian’s scarred forearm. 

“Are you quite alright?” Watts asked. “I only want to get a washcloth so that the two of us can start to…” He eyed Tyrian’s arm. He didn’t want to think about the mess that had been made of the pillow that Tyrian was  _ still _ laying on top of. He also didn’t know that he wanted to think about what he knew was leaking from Tyrian’s hole. “ _ Clean up. _ ”

“Don’t leave.” Tyrian mumbled against his skin, his grip tightening. “Don’t.” 

Watts blinked. “It’ll only be for a moment.” He said. “I’ll won’t even be leaving the room.”

Tyrian stilled behind him. Whether or not Watts was actually getting through to him or not, Watts didn’t  _ really _ know but he had to take it as a sign of some sort of progress.

He pulled away and stood up, even though Tyrian  _ whined _ over the loss there was no desperate grab for one last scrap of contact. Watts eyed him, and watched sadly as Tyrian draped his long tail over himself like  _ it _ was meant to be offering him comfort that it certainly was not and never could. 

But Watts took his time, running the water long enough to make sure that it was warm before he dipped a washcloth underneath it and made his way back to the bed where Tyrian lay. 

“Sit up.” He ordered, and Tyrian did just that, even if it was with some weak protest. As soon as Tyrian was up Watts discarded of the pillow, tossing it to the floor. He'd have to remember to burn it before the time came where they needed to abandon the safe house. The last thing that either of them needed to do was leave traceable evidence behind them. 

With the pillow gone, Watts seated himself at Tyrian’s side and offered the scorpion the washcloth. Tyrian eyed it warily, no doubt considering the chill that the water that had soaked into the cloth would bring. Watts rolled his eyes. “Either you can do it, or  _ I’ll _ do it.” 

In all truth, it wasn’t much of a threat. 

But Tyrian rolled his eyes and took the washcloth just the same before he began to wipe the drying remnants of the evening’s activities away from his skin. It just made Watts glad that they did indeed have heat in their little apartment, as far from perfect as it was. The last thing that he needed to think about was his semen freezing to Tyrian’s skin.

The mess was wiped away though, and when Watts deemed Tyrian suitably clean (chances for either of them to enjoy a proper  _ shower _ weren’t likely to arise on their current mission) he allowed his partner to lie back down on the bed. Almost immediately Tyrian was curling into whatever warmth was left behind for him. 

Watts wiped himself off as well. There was less of a mess to attend to but it still needed to be attended to. Being sanitary was important.

He gave Tyrian a small, pitying look before he went to dispose of the washcloth. It would still need to be burned, but letting it sit in the empty sink was suitable enough.

After all, he didn't want to be the one chiseling it off the floor if it decided to freeze.

When Watts reached the bed again, Tyrian was there waiting for him. He’d put his dark hair back in a low ponytail, and had curled under the covers but as soon as Tyrian noticed Watts’ presence he was sliding himself off to the side and leaving behind enough space so that the two of them could share. 

Watts rolled his eyes as he retrieved a clean pillow off of the bed that had been intended to be Tyrian’s for the night. He tossed it back to the bed and heard Tyrian let out a tiny noise as it hit him in the face. But sure enough it made its way under Tyrian’s head just as Watts was sliding under the covers next to him. 

“Well?” He asked, hoping that Tyrian would give him some sort of response. “Are you satisfied?” 

“Of course, doctor.” Tyrian mumbled, his yellow eyes sliding shut. “Your services were more than satisfactory.” 

And as much as Watts wanted to say the same, to say that Tyrian was just as good, something else came to mind.

“This can’t happen again.” He said quietly. “She would never approve.” 

“I know.” Tyrian’s tail wrapped itself over the edges of Watts’ hips. “But she doesn’t have to know. Not about this. We can still serve her.” 

Watts frowned. 

He knew what was to come, in a way. He was even ready for it in a certain way. It was only a matter of time before Tyrian began doing mental gymnastics to justify what had happened, or to justify a repeat performance, or anything else.

In truth Watts didn’t  _ know _ whether Salem would care.

But to him it almost didn’t matter whether she cared. What mattered was the obvious fear that Tyrian had when it came to her. 

If Watts could protect him, could spare him the pain that would come when Salem inevitably turned their closeness on its head, when she claimed that Tyrian had disappointed her because he’d been  _ distracted, _ then Watts would. Even if it was something that he desperately wished he never had to do.

The last thing that Salem needed was another tool in her arsenal against either of them.

But then again, Watts thought, it was only one night.

What harm could one night do?

**Author's Note:**

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> 


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